Winter's pristine blankets
Have seeped into the ground.
Animal ****'s like scattered landmines;
Cigarette rubble and plastics
Are strewn about like the aftermath.
I look for survivors.
The thaw has people
Stumbling out of winter
With hands covering faces,
Hiding tears and smiles.
They wave,
As if okay.
Now the reconstruction
Begins.
I like the simple garden. Grass.
Some vegetables,
No ponds or waterfalls,
Or barrels with trickles.
Lost two limbs out the back
Last fall. More sunshine.
A *****, a mower, a compost box,
And a watering hose.
Equinox, **!